You ever have one of those mornings, that when the alarm goes off, you're hoping and praying that the time displayed is wrong, and it really isn't time to get up. I've had Saturday and Sunday mornings, when I literally wake up and think that its Monday morning, and then something kicks in and I realize that its the weekend. When I woke up this morning, I was tired, my eyes were burning and everything, but I had no luck..it really was Monday morning. And to top it off, it was cold and rainy, and the wind was howling around my window. If I had someone to wake up too, I definitely would NOT have gone to work, but no such luck, so I am here at work, and surprisingly I'm not too cranky. I have the headache from hell, but that's probably because I need new glasses, that I've yet to visit the doctor for.

I went to a wedding on Saturday night, and I can't even begin to tell you how much fun I had. My date and I were a little late, due to the fact that she had to perform a million and one alterations to her dress, her makeup and everything in between; however, when I saw the final product I was impressed. She looked beautiful and she smelled good. Me? I cleaned up ok..plus I was rocking some new Kenneth Cole cufflinks that I had purchased in ATL back in August, but rarely worn. The actual ceremony was in a church, and it was short and sweet. The reception was at a nearby hotel, and this is where the real fun was had. There was an open bar, that my date and I almost abused(we were one of the few black couples there, and to be drinking all the liquor would have been fulfilling the stereotype) it. I got tipsy off wine, and my date kept drinking champagne. The band was incredible..they started off playing Sade, "No Ordinary Love", then they went into Levert's, "Casanova"..other hits included "Fly Like An Eagle", "I Shot the Sheriff", and my personal favorite, "Slipping Into Darkness". To be honest, I didn't think the older, white folks would dance at first, but that was ME feeding into the stereotype. Everyone dance and had a good time. I tried unsuccessfully to palm my date's ass while we were slow dancing, but she wasn't having it..even though she did have quite a nice one. Overall it was good wedding, but an even better date. We laughed and joked the whole time, and not just because of the open bar.

During the wedding, I found myself wondering what it would be like to be married. My thoughts ranged from planning the wedding, to inviting my boys and family, to picking the songs, and everything else that it is involved in a wedding. My date and I even talked a bit about it. Ideally, I want a small wedding and a bigger reception, and I'd like to get married in a tropical environment. I'd get a jazz band to play during the meal and during cocktail hour before the meal. And then for the dancing portion of the evening, I'd hire a DJ to spin all my favorite songs. I think my blog would stop once I got married too. Either that or it would become less personal. There would be some thoughts that only my wife could be privy to..but enough about that for now.

I hate it when major events happen over the weekend, and then your co-workers want to chat you up about them like they just happened. I know Ed Bradley and Gerald Levert died over the weekend, but I dont need to discuss that with you on Monday morning. I actually wouldn't mind discuss the tribute to Ed Bradley that 60 minutes, but most of my co-workers probably don't even know how long 60 minutes is, let alone when it comes on. And I'm not even joking. This woman interrupted me typing my blog, to talk about Gerald Levert and how broken up she was about it. But anyway..

I'm all over the place this morning, so I'll cut this blog entry short.

I was sad to see Donald Rumsfeld go yesterday. Yes he was and still is stubborn. And if the elections had turned out differently on Tuesday, you would have heard nothing about these alleged "fresh eyes" that are needed to navigate the war in Iraq. You would have heard how much stronger Rumsfeld's resolve was, and how he was prepared to "stay the course" in an effort to bring freedom and democracy to Iraq. But none of that happened. So why am I sad to see him go? No member of Bush's cabinet possessed such a command over the media the way Rumsfeld did. He wouldn't half-answer questions, and then dare a member of the press to ask him again. Unlike other members of the party, who were worried about how they were perceived, Rumsfeld could care less, and although that same arrogance and stubbornness led to his resignation, I appreciated the honesty and candor. So many public figures whether they be in entertainers, athletes or politicians, sit in your face and tell you what you want to hear, in a way you want to hear it. Rumsfeld threw aside that conventional logic, and for that reason(and that reason only), I will miss him. In about 2 years, Rumsfeld will magically come down with a case of Alzheimer's, and forget all of the lies he told to the American public, allowing him to be let off the hook. sorry to be so cynical.

I told myself I wouldn't keep speaking on politics, but given this current climate how can you not? This is a very interesting time politically speaking, and what goes on now, will affect not only the presidential election in '08, but it'll affect the direction of this country over the next 4-6 years. I find myself watching CNBC, Fox News, and CNN a lot more than usual, as well as reading any internet publication I can get my hands on. Of course this will never supplant sports as my viewing of choice, but I'd be a fool not keep myself educated. This reminds me, back in the summer of '05, I dated this dumb ass girl who not only had never voted, but she told me she didn't get into all of the "political stuff". And THEN, to further confirm her stupidity, she told me she had no clue who Bob Dole was, after I cracked a joke about him. I said you don't know who Bob Dole is, and she said, well should I? I told her that the man ran for president a couple of times, he does Viagra commercials, and he is the most popular one-armed man alive, and none of this rang a bell for her. That kind of thing blows my mind. Of course, I'm the dumbass because I continued to date her after this revelation, but who am I to let a substantial amount of stupidity get in the way of some easy sex from a woman with big breasts. Of course, this was the '05 version of Rashad..i'm all growns up now.

Speaking of being growns up, yesterday while I was riding the train, I saw one of the best asses I've ever seen in my life. I swear I just wanted to palm and squeeze it 5 consecutive times, and then I would have let her go on about her day. She looked to be about 25 or 26, with her hair in a ponytail, and she had on a business power suit. But her suit jacket was NOT doing a good job in masking what was an incredible ass. I was reading my favorite internet author at the time, and I just happened to look up and see her, and I just smiled and kept reading. As I got off the train she caught my eye, and in the most proper voice I possess I said to her, "Have a good evening", and she smiled and said "You too". She had no idea of the filthy, nasty thoughts that were swimming in my dirty little sex-deprived mind..then again maybe she did, thus the smile. As I am writing this, I am reminded that a friend of mine who reads this blog, told me that when I talk about sex and sex related comments, it turns her off, because she feels like those things are private. So that whole paragraph was unintentionally dedicated to you my friend..hahaha. I am a conflicted, contradictory man. One minute I will break down crying about my son, and the next I will have twisted fantasies of licking sweet caramel off of a woman's body parts. That's just who I am.

And now, one of my favorite Zhane songs: http://download.yousendit.com/CDB83D35272670C4

I know the Republican candidates who lost last night(and this morning in some cases) have to be looking at President Bush, and saying, "See what you did to me you dumb ass". There are some political careers who have taken a hit as a result of this mini Democratic revolution, and in the case of George Allen, some presidential aspirations have taken a serious detour. I'll never truly understand why there is such excitement from either party when they can claim the majority..back in '94, Newt Gingrich led this same type of revolution for the Republican party. These things go in cycles, and as citizens all we can do is vote, hope we can navigate the machines properly, and just sit and wait.

The funniest part of this election process is the speech the loser has to give, when they have officially been defeated, and they have to concede. I don't know who made this rule up, but I'll be goddamned if I give a congratulatory speech to the man who just defeated me. Lots of money, time and energy go into a campaign, and a candidate shouldn't be made to concede the same day they got their ass kicked. I think I would ask for a recount, even if I lost by 30% of the vote. And then after that, I'd wait until the swearing in ceremony of the person who defeated me, and then I'd give a press conference and ask my followers to antagonize the new candidate as much as possible. Would this effectively end my political career? Hell Yes. But more importantly, would I hold on to my sore loser title? Hells Yes! The other silver lining of losing an election? Your honorarium goes through the roof. You can basically appear on any college campus, and they will pay you an obscene amount of money to run your mouth about life and your political views. You can also join one of the major networks, and get paid once again to talk shit about your political opinion(which must not be worth too much, because if it was, wouldn't you have won the damn election?) Anyway..enough politics

As I walked through the pouring rain today, I had a thought that I'd like to be sitting in the middle of a river/ocean/lake. I'd like to be in my boat with a cigar, my IPOD that would be playing smooth jazz(yeah right)..ok John Coltrane, a raincoat with a matching fisherman hat, and my fishing gear. I'd turn my phone off, and I'd just sit there catching fish, listening to music, and plotting to take over the world. I really want to make that happen soon. That's one of my fantasies that doesn't involve me being rich or having three naked women all over me.





My father sent me this picture (dated August 2006) yesterday, and I sat and stared at it for a good 10 minutes. My parents divorced in '93, and since then these types of photo-ops have been few and far between. We took a pic like this during my graduation back in '97, but my parents clearly weren't feeling each other back then. Now? Enough time has gone by, and everyone is happy. My parents are smiling. Why is my brother not smiling? He's trying to be hard. Why I am not smiling? It was 90 degrees and I am the only one in the picture who has to contend with the sun. Still, it's a picture that is special to me, so I'm sharing.

I have a hole in my shirt this morning, right in the armpit region. Like a woman who puts on stockings hoping no one really sees the run, I am well aware of the hole, and I try my best to disguise it by playing it close to the vest so to speak. I know I need to give up on this shirt, and there's really no need to constantly sport it, but I can't give it up. Of the shirts I wear in my fall/winter line, this shirt is, and will always be my favorite. It's a deep orange, and I bought it from Banana Republic back in '02. It fits me perfectly, and I know they still sell it at BR, but who wants to break in another shirt of this kind. When people are able to penetrate my guard, and notice the hole, I don't even try to play it off..I just look at them as if to say, "YEAH, AND?!?!". I need to visit my dry cleaners one of these days, to get them to sew the hole closed. The last time I attempted to do that, I was told that wouldn't really help, and it could quite possibly tear again. So alas, I keep the shirt in rotation..I even wore it on a first date earlier this year. The woman commented on how nice my shirt was, and luckily(or unluckily) for me, the date never progressed to anything romantic, otherwise my hole(as opposed to hers) would have been exposed. So when you see me in the street, and I have on this shirt, kindly greet me, then the hole..neither one of us are going anywhere.

There was no internet access yesterday at my job, due to some outage, and since I currently do not have a computer at my place of residence, there was no blog yesterday. Not only was there no blog, but I couldn't check my non-work emails, my fantasy football progress, my favorite e-columnists, or any of that. I felt like I was back in the early 90s...but I did have my most productive day in quite some time. A few people called me and tried to act like they cared what I had to say, but they really wanted to know why the hell I hadn't written a blog. I must admit it made me feel special(not the short yellow bus kind) for just a few seconds. Given the minor turmoil in my life right, a touch of specialness(if you will) does the ego very good. I had all these things in my mind that I wanted to say yesterday, and now I have forgotten them. They have fallen into the unknown abyss of my mind..in fact that will be the name of the first single off my yet to be recorded CD..The Unknown Abyss Of My Mind.

I am in the process of letting both my hair and my beard out, and it isn’t pretty at all. I know the men and women at my job, are tempted to throw money at my desk..I look that rugged. The beard is trimmed and my hair is lined up, but it looks way more rugged than I typically allow it too. When you don’t have a ladyfriend around everyday telling you what looks good and what doesn’t, you tend to take a few more risks with your physical appearance. That being said, I have a wedding to attend this weekend, and I will be cleaning up nicely for that. I wouldn’t want to scare away the guests or my date.

I spoke to my brother this weekend, and he is definitely ecstatic about finally being a father. He also made sure that all pictures of his son were taken in masculine colors. Apparently the nurses, tried to throw some pink and green his way, and Jamal wasn’t having it. As he explained to my mother, they do live in Atlanta, and that type of thing has to be nipped in the bud quickly. Homophobia? Maybe, but at least he gets it honest. I can’t imagine how the fathers of gay sons feel. I mean sure they cope with it, and they never stop loving their child, but how do you react when you son says, Dad, I’m gay, I take it in the butt, and frankly, I’m loving every minute of it. There’s no manual for how to deal with that. So far so good for me though.

Oh and by the way, I think the blog powers-that-be have nixed my ability to post links to songs. I’ve tried to post links the past two blog entries, and I’ve been rejected. It is indeed the end of a 3 month era.

As of 7:52am when I am writing this blog entry, I still have not received official word that my nephew is in this world. I spoke to my brother last night, and he said that they were still waiting. My friend asked me to ask him specific questions regarding his wife being dilated and all that, but I am simply not equipped to get into that level of minutiae. I'm a bottom-line type of fellow, and the bottom line is that Nazir has yet to officially arrive. The good news is he sounded in real good spirits.

Ok, now this next point is going to sound real petty, and I am so sorry about it. But yesterday at my job, I had the opportunity to work closely with the other black guy who works on my floor. He's been a few months, and I generally ignore him, because he's the kind of guy who goes to lunch with all the female co-workers, and flirts, listens to gossip, etc. I can't clap my hands to that type of behavior, so we were on strictly head nod status. Yesterday, we were working on a project together, and we talked about sports, women, etc. It wasn't a bad conversation. But I did notice last night before I left, he gave me dap(a soul handshake), and said he'd see me tomorrow. Then when I got into work this morning, he said that he had some ladyfriends hanging with him tonight, and he wanted me to hang with him, because he couldn't handle them himself. It looks like someone is trying to be my friend, and I ain't having it. As I have alluded to in this here blog on many an occasion, I am all filled up in the male friend dept. I have no desire to break in someone new..I have jokes I like to tell with my boys, and just an overall familiarity, that I won't have with this new dude. We'll have to keep all of our pleasantries at work during business hours. Again, this seems petty, but no man wants the obligation of hanging with a new dude, or breaking in a new man into the crew.

As I am typing this, my brother let me know that Nazir Vonell Mobley was born at 11:30pm last night. I am officially an uncle. Oh, and Vonell was my late grandfather's(my father's father) first name. Good times indeed. My baby brother is now a father.

I got a text message at 6:30 this morning from my brother, telling me that his wife's water broke and they were in the hospital. I sent one right back to him telling him that Nas(short for Nazir, the child's name)is coming. I can only imagine what is going through his mind right about now. The birth of a child is a lot to deal with, but luckily(or unluckily depending on how you look at it) I never got a chance to see my son born. My son's mother unexpectedly went into labor, and I had to travel from DC to Hampton in record speed to make it(and I got a ticket). Unfortunately, I missed the whole childbirth experience by about 30 minutes. That is one of the hazards of having a child out of wedlock..had that been my wife, or even my serious girlfriend, I'm quite sure things would have been different. Jamal is about to have a child within the context of a marriage, so he gets to see every step of his child's life..including the play by play, blow by blow, of childbirth. Jamal, if you're reading this, good luck with all that buddy!!

I left work yesterday at about noon. A series of personal things were happening to me at the same time, and since I have leave to burn, I said fuck this I'm out of here. I wrapped up what I was working on, and I left the building. But before I got on the train, I sat down to call my mother back. I was frustrated, angry, and I wanted to go on a choking spree, starting with whoever randomly crossed my path. While I was sitting there talking to my mother, a homeless man came and sat right next to me. He had a brown paper bag with him, and he emptied it out. It contained a sandwich, some money, and two cigarettes, one of which he set aside presumably to smoke after his meal. His hair and his Tom Hanks beard were completely gray, and this man was completely oblivious to everything around him, except the contents of that bag. Now just 3 hours prior to this moment, I had just written in my blog, that everyone has problems relative to their own situation. And now, my own words were staring me right in my face. Talk about irony..however, just like I wrote in my blog, seeing this didn't make me feel any better. In fact, for a quick second, I envied this man..he was getting ready to enjoy a meal and cigarette, and that could have quite possibly been the highlight of his day. The envy lasted a quick second though..plus my beard was better.

Directv is giving me a free week of NBA League Pass, which means I have access to every NBA game from now until November 7th, and friends let me tell you, 'tis a beautiful thing. From 7pm yesterday to midnight, I had the remote in my hand, and I watched 12 games. Of course I didn't watch any of them to completion, I just kept flipping back and forth, every time a commercial came on. As my friend said to me last night, all I need was a glass of wine, and some oral sex, and I would have been king of the world...well not quite, a brown paper bag with a sandwich and a cigarette would have done the trick too...Anyway, I'm sick of Lebron James and his damn commercial already. The NBA is so hungry for a star, that they are shoving these damn commercials down my throat. Last time I checked, Dwyane Wade had a title and a Finals MVP trophy, not Lebron. And why does Dwyane spell his name like that? Was his mother dyslexic or something? Shouldn't it be Dwayne? I'm rambling and nitpicking now, let me end this.

It gets increasingly difficult for me to get and get motivated for this job, and that attitude has to end, and it has to end now. There are plenty of unemployed folks, who are concerned about money and where their next meal is going to come from, so what do I look like complaining? Well I'll tell you what I look like..but before I do. I don't like when people try to minimize your problems, by giving you a list of woes of someone who is less fortunate than you. While I sympathize with people who have less than I do, that doesn't mean I'm not entitled to bitch, moan and complain with reckless abandon. Everyone's problems are relative. Homeless people are hungry, rich folks are worried about keeping their money, fat people want to lose weight, skinny women try to outdo Kate Moss, and I want a more fulfilling job. Everyone's problems are important to them. The bigger issue here is that I'm working on a solution, and I'm being proactive, but I can resist a little complaining here and there.

It's amazing how oblivious to Halloween one can be when you don't have kids living with you, and you're not high school age. In years past, I'd give out raisins to kids, just so the word would get out, that my apt was NOT the place to go. I didn't want to just give out nothing, because then my house would be egged mercilessly. This year, I shut it down completely. I heard a few kiddies outside my house, and I just looked out my peephole, and then sat back down. Plus they looked a bit too old to be trick or treating. As my brother said yesterday, if you REALLY think about what Halloween it is a bit disturbing, but if you deny your kids the joy that is Halloween, you have to be prepared to explain. And if you deny your children the right to be children, they will grow up and build a Neverland Ranch, lighten their face, and then touch little boys, while becoming big pop stars..or something like that.

The NBA season started last night, and I am in heaven. As I have alluded to in past blogs, this time of year is utopia for sports fans. Both college and professional football are in full swing, the NBA has started, and in a few weeks the college basketball season will start as well. I watched Shaq and his Miami Heat team get spanked last night, and then I watched a Kobe-less Laker team beat the Phoenix Suns. To be honest, both games were boring as hell, and incredibly sloppy, but that's to be expected considering its early in the season. But I must warn you..I will not hesitate to mention the NBA in this here blog from here on out.

I could never be a monk. I go through days and sometimes weeks when I don't really think about sex, because of everything else on my mind. And then I go through these periods, like the one I"m currently in, where I go crazy, and I need(or at least I think I do) some primal sex for a good 30-45 minutes. Relief is in sight though...

And now, I present to you, the song was in my head this morning:

The past two nights, I've had some horrid dreams man. And I don't want to turn this space into Dream Interpretation 101, but I'd be a fool if I didn't write about them, because these aren't your normal run-of-the-mill dreams. Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was visiting an African village, and when I peeked into one of the tents, I saw dead bodies everywhere. And these weren't freshly dead bodies, they looked as if they had been dead for quite some time. And then last night, I had a dream that my mother, my father, my brother and I were driving in the car, except my father was drunk and hitting parked cars. I yelled at my father(something I have never done in my 31 years) to pull over and I took over the wheel, but as I passed him outside the car, I asked him what the hell he was thinking(again, I've only cursed at my father one time, but never in an angry context). Both dreams were quick, but they definitely stuck with me. I haven't talked to my dad in a little bit, so I definitely need to call him, but why was the entire family together? That happens very little. In terms of the other dream, why the hell am I dreaming of dead African people in their villages? All this, and I haven't had a drink in two weeks.

I've come to conclusion that I am grossly underachieving in my life, and that is NOT an easy realization to admit to myself, let alone in a written forum. Judging by the responses I've gotten to my writing, and my own personal desires, I know I need to be writing something for someone and receiving some type of financial compensation for it as well. My passions are sports and writing, and my current job doesn't highlight either. In fact, NO paying job I've ever had has really done so. I've been quietly making moves to right this wrong, but in the interim, it gets increasingly difficult to come to work and be even remotely productive for sustained intervals of time(and yes that was a run-on sentence, but I was flowing man) An ex of mine used to tell me that getting paid big bucks was way more important than doing something you love, because ultimately bills needed to be paid. I thought she was a jackass then, and I think she's a bigger jackass now. Plus, she was rejected in her attempts to do what she loved, so I think she there were some residual hurt feelings, she was throwing my way. Not to get overly spiritual here, but I firmly believe that if you follow what God has placed in your heart as a passion, you will reap the financial rewards. And I'm dead serious when I say that, no sarcasm. This concludes the religious portion of the blog.

It seems as if Aaron McGruder, creator of the The Boondocks, has pulled a Chappelle, and walked away from his daily creation of the comicstrip. He has chosen to focus on the cartoon which airs on Comedy Central, and an upcoming movie. I've followed Aaron since the days when he only wrote for the University of Maryland newspaper(the Diamondback I believe its called), and I was disappointed to read that, especially since it seemed like one of the few comics that actually balanced political statements with humor. I've watched a few episodes of his show, and I was kind of lukewarm on it. I guess that's all I have now.

And finally, whoever invented this idea of turning the clocks back is a jackass. I keep waking up at 4:50 am, an hour earlier than I used to, and then when I get off work, its already dark. So now when I wake up its dark, and when I leave work its dark as well, which means my days are bookended with darkness. Perhaps THAT'S why I had the dream about Africa...

My homecoming/visit with my son weekend was damn good again. I've decided to chronicle that entire day in a log format. Enjoy.

7:30am: My mother and I wake up, and head to Starbucks for the upcoming drive. She flirts with the young West Indian brother behind the counter, I politely excuse myself from the Starbucks premises. Not only is it too early to be trying to get a phone number, but I simply do not need to see this.

7:31: My mother delivers her "we're getting ready to travel" prayer, in a record 45 seconds, as opposed to the marathon 5 minute sessions I am used. The first sign that a good day is ahead

8-9am: My mother and I listen to the Audrey Chapman show on WHUR radio. Audrey is a psychologist who fields phone calls from people who need help with relationships. Today's topic: Are there too few eligible men in Washington DC?. I listen silently, and surprisingly so does my mother. Good times!

9-10am: My mother touched on a variety of subjects during this time from recreational sex, to her upcoming book, to my sex life, and I can honestly say I tuned out about 65% of it. Not much to report here

10:30am: I arrive at my son's residence, and he promptly invites in to play a game of John Madden '07. Now mind you, I haven't played a video game since Tecmo Bowl back in 1991, so I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Carlton gave me a crash course, and I attempted to play him, and he killed me. And he was so gracious in doing it too, he kept saying, "it's ok Daddy I'm really good". Just then, one of Carlton's cousins ran by and kicked the plug right out of the outlet..that was cue to tell Carlton that we needed to go...

11:30 am: Carlton says to me, "Daddy, you should take a different way to the game this time, since you got stuck in traffic before". I look back at him say thank you, and my mother gives me this look that says, "payback is quite the bitch isn't it". I appreciate my son's smarts, but damn let me drive little man

11:45am: We set foot on Hampton University's campus and nostalgia rushes in. There are tailgaters, vendors, current students, recent alumni, older alumni, and damn near ancient alumni walking around in preparation for the football game. I saw and ignored a few people I knew, and I stopped and spoke to others. When I introduced my son to people, and told them he was 9, I could see folks doing the math in their head. My son was giving me the look that I give my mother when see takes me around church..once again, payback is a bitch.

12:00 pm: I take my son to the barbershop. The downside of having a child with a white woman, is that she doesn't really understand how important it is for any child, but particularly a black child, to keep a fresh haircut. It does wonders for the self-esteem, and it fends off the other black kids at school who WILL clown. Once we are in the barbershop, my son gives me his mini scouting report on what Hampton U. needs to do to win. I can barely contain my smile..this is MY child. Sports and all.

12:15pm: My mother bursts in the barbershop like the Kool Aid man, in an attempt to photograph young Carlton while he's in the barbershop. This action of course, breaks all types of barbershop etiquette rules, but I give my mother a pass since she's in the midst of her grandmotherness. A couple of barbershop dudes comment on this, and I explain that she doesn't get many chances to play grandma..Still, Carlton and I got funny looks until we got the hell out of there.

1:00pm: We sit down in the football stadium an hour early, in an effort to get a good seat. Carlton breaks out his scouting report once again, although this time I'm only halfway listening, because I'm too busy scanning the crowd for people I know. This is wrong I know, but dammit, this was my homecoming, and I had already received the Carlton homecoming an hour earlier. My mother was struggling to stay warm in the howling wind, and I felt bad for her.

1:30: The new Jay-Z song comes blaring out of the loudspeakers, and my son knows the chorus. I had mixed feelings about this..then the next song, "Ballin" comes on, and everyone in the crowd, including Carlton does this dance. I bust out laughing, and then I realize that clearly I am out of the cool loop. I've heard this song before, but I didn't know it was this big. After the song ends I have a word with Carlton about cursing, and he tells me that he knows all of the curse words, but he doesn't say them. I hope he's telling the truth

2-4pm: The actual game starts, and Carlton and I converse about defenses, offensive plays, the speed of the running backs, catching the min footballs the cheerleaders are giving and out and much more that I can't possibly capture via a blog. He also tells me that school bores him a bit, and I ask him if he gets straight A's and he says no, so I tell him when he's bored and gets straight A's to come back to me, and then we can talk. We shake hands on the deal. Everyone now and then, I whisper into Carlton's ear, that he should talk to my mother to keep her interested, and he obliged. Such a great kid.

4:15: We leave the game, and on the strip from the field to the car, I see about 7 or 8 people I went to school with, and I ended up doing the very thing that I said in this here blog that I wouldn't. I shook hands, hugged and had convos about the past..I was pissed with myself for giving in, but Carlton turned out to be the perfect excuse to cut folks short. I just told everyone I had to get him back, and they didn't dare question me. Good times once again.

6:00pm: I took Carlton back home, and my mother and I headed home. It was during this ride home that I negotiated my way out of going to church the next day. My mother was PISSED, but frankly I didn't care. I had football to watch on Sunday.

Other weekend observations:

-It seems like most people I went to school with have put on weight, and not in a good way. If I ever needed motivation to get and stay in shape, this weekend was it. Some people have seemingly just said, fuck it, and let themselves go. Now there were a few people who looked damn good, but that was exception, not the norm.

-It is weird to see people in their 30s, who you saw at age 18. Some people like myself have kids, others had wives and multiple kids, and everyone just looked mature and confident. That's a far cry from the wide eyed and confused look we all had has college students. I sometimes make fun of my college years, but for one day, I was proud of what I had accomplished, and the people I had met along the way

-I desperately need to get my custody of my son. Enough said.

-College women don't look like they did when I was in school. They looked VERY mature. There was T&A everywhere, and I know my son caught me looking every now and then. Things have truly changed.

So that's my weekend in a nutshell, I know I'm leaving things out, but I simply cannot recall it all. And now, for nostalgia's sake, here is the FIRST song I heard when I set foot on Hampton Unversity's campus back in 1992. You Remind Me.

As I stepped off of the train today, and a bird dropped its precious droppings on me. Luckily for me, it only grazed the right side of my jeans and the tip of my shoes, but still..I was actually feeling pretty good up until that point. Then that happened, and my mojo momentum was broken for a bit. In case you haven't noticed, you really cannot be cool or confident with bird excrement on any part of your person; however, I tried my best to pull it off, although several people looked at my pants, then did a double take, and kept it moving. I just told myself that they were looking at my genitals which were hopefully more noticeable and intriguing than bird doo doo. And if you're scoring at home (or if you're alone) this is the second time in my life that I've gotten got by a bird. All of this makes me think this cartoon, I saw some years back.

The attack from the birds aside, this weekend promises to be a pretty eventful one. My brother told me yesterday, that there is a damn good chance that he and his wife will make me an uncle by the time this weekend is over, so that is very exciting. It is still a bit surreal that he is married, let alone expecting a child, but it is about to get extremely real for all of us. And on Saturday, my son, my mother and I are going to attend the Hampton Homecoming Football game. My son has been talking about this game for two weeks, and I must admit I'm a bit excited too. Although I am NOT looking forward to the bullshit small talk I'll have to engage in at least 30 times..its not that I'm a mean, heartless man, its just that I don't have the patience for small talk. Yes I look better than I did in college, no I don't keep it touch with anyone(ok that's a lie), yes you can have my number even though you'll NEVER call, and yes you can give me a hug so I can feel your breasts pressed against my chest, and yes you can shake the hell out of my hand and give me a half hug(for the fellas of course). Of course my son will be with me, so I can't let him see my crotchety side. If all goes well, my son will be steal the spotlight taking the pressure off me.

And the part of my weekend that I am dreading the most is my attendance in church this Sunday with my mother. At least three time a year, I go to church with her, and every time I dread it. First off, my mother likes to go to the 7:30 am service, which is absolutely insane. I have to get up earlier for that, than I do for work. And then I have to listen to a variety of prayers..the welcome prayer, the pre-song prayer, the pre and post announcement prayer and song, the pre and post offering prayer and song. By this time, I'm all prayed out, although I can dig the songs. And then, one of the deacons, says the final prayer before the main pastor comes out and delivers the sermon. Everytime I go, the same deacon prays, and my brother and I call him, "Mr Father God". This dude starts and ends every sentence in his prayer with Father God, and it amazes me that more people don't laugh in his face. During his prayer, I"ll open my eyes to see if anyone is laughing, and of course no one but me is..He's like a rapper who runs out of rhymes, so he attempts to rhyme using the same word over and over. It baffles me that he's able to get away with this. Anyway, after the sermon, my mother then shows me off like I'm on the red carpet before the Oscars. Everyone has to hear my 5 minute mini-bio, everyone wants me to meet their daughter, and everyone answers my "how are you" question with "I'm blessed" or "God is good", to which I respond that's great. I'm clearly a fish out of water, but at least now I can sit thru it, knowing that a fantastic blog entry will follow it.

And now, to conclude my blog, I will post this song by Leaders of the New School from 1991.

Yesterday my boy Cliff called me to say that he was in town, and he asked me what I was doing later on in the evening. I told him that I was going home to cook, and he was welcome to come through if he wanted..and then there was an awkward pause, and I realized that my statement was about an 11 on the 1 to 10 gay scale. I quickly followed that up with a maybe not, and the conversation quickly fizzled. Needless to say, Cliff never came by, but it got me thinking about the limits of a male friendship. Last week was my boy Kevin's birthday, and even that had to be handled in a delicate manner. I sent him a message via myspace, and I said happy birthday man, and then I suggested he drink a shot of Johnnie Walker to celebrate. And his response was "yeah.". Now let's examine that further. There was no way in hell, I would just call him and say happy birthday Kevin..because again that is borderline ghey..so I replaced his name with "man", which is legal under Man Law. Immediately after that, I suggested that Kevin get a shot of Johnnie Walker, which if you've ever tasted it, you know that clearly it is a manly thing to drink. Not saying that women can't drink it, but you get my drift I hope. So my birthday wish was successfully wrapped in testosterone, as was Kevin's minimalist response of "yeah". A thank you would not have been in appropriate. The "yeah" says I hear you man and thanks, but I'm not trying to hug you or anything because you remembered my day of birth.

Men also don't exchange gifts on birthdays or holidays..the most we may do is go out for drinks, or go to a game, or a trip to Brazil or Vegas. But there's no exchanging sweaters or anything like that..of course this rule doesn't apply to family members. Other things men don't do:

1)Go to the movies together
2)Go the grocery store together
3)Ride together in a two seat convertible
4)Cook together in the same kitchen
5)Say I miss hanging out with you man, when are we going to hang out
6)Stand next to each other at urinals
7)Go to Brian McKnight concerts

Women that I talk to say that men are ridiculously homophobic with one another, and that we need to work on expressing our feelings. That may be true, but what man wants to be the first to make that change happen? Who is willing to be the Rosa Parks of that movement? I sure as hell won't, and neither will anyone I know. Plus women do all kinds of things that cross the straight/gay line. They get naked around one another, they say stuff like "I miss you" to their friends, and I swear 1 out of every 8 women I know has had some borderline lesbian experience, and they mention it like its not a big deal. I've never caught the eye of my boy during a game or while we're out drinking, and said man let me hit that one time, and then we can act like it never happened. It's not bloody likely. Women are my only lovers of choice.

If I see one more article like this where someone is bitching about the state of rap music, I am going to start mushing the authors on sight. Everyone is bitching about how hip hop is dead, and there's no more quality music, and that's simply bullshit. The REAL problem is that people who grew up on hip hop, are getting older and their tastes are changing. The artists they grew up on are getting older and more extinct, and they don't care for the younger generation. That kind of thing is cyclical though. And that being said, there are still rap groups that cater to an older crowd: The Roots, Common, Jay-Z(to some degree), Rakim, etc..Yes they are few and far between, but that doesn't mean hip hop is changing, it just means folks are getting older. The woman who wrote that article, just turned on the radio, heard substandard rap music, and then made a generalization. Rap music that is played on the radio is not at all representative of the music as a whole. And if my son was in the car with me (and he has been), I'd play rap music that we could proudly listen to together, not that radio bullshit. I could write an entire essay on this, and I think I just might do that.

And now, some PM Dawn

I need someone to explain to me the historical importance, of having the national anthem and/or God Bless America being sung at American sporting events. It seems a bit redundant if you ask me. At the Olympics, or at any international competition, it certainly makes sense. In that forum, each country is "representing", so a minute of patriotism is encouraged, and for some athletes downright nostalgic I guess. But if I'm watching a baseball game in St Louis, Missouri(pronounced Mizzura), I have not a clue in the world, why I have to watch someone singing God Bless America. I realize that by doing this, I am subjecting myself to the keepers of the Patriot Act, but its how I feel regardless. I remember when I was in high school, and we had to stand for the playing of the national anthem, I used to think about everything but the words..and this was during the Persian Gulf War, so I guess I was doubly wrong. The only thing I DO remember is yelling out "Ohhh", when it got to the line, "O'er the land of the free". Perhaps I have it all wrong here, which is why I really need someone to explain to me the importance of this..and why sporting events? We don't say the national anthem before presidential debates..or before movies, or the Grammys, so why have sports been singled out?

I am again in need of dream interpretation, but this time it is not of the sexual variety. I had a dream that I was playing flag football with all of the guys who work in the barber shop I frequent. I remember I made some good plays here and there, but nothing too spectacular. When the game was over, we all walked away, but as I was walking up the hill(towards what, I do not know), I realized that I didn't have my cell phone. I returned to the field, but everyone was gone, and my cell phone was nowhere to be found. I had no reason to believe anyone had stolen it, but I combed the grass looking for it, and I never did. Perhaps this was another case of the Burger King bandit terrorizing me, but I doubt it. I have no clue what this dream means though.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually agree with Rush Limbaugh, who is outraged that Michael J. Fox is doing ads without taking his medication for Parkinson's disease. I have no doubt that Mr. Fox suffers from the disease, because I saw him when he testified before the Senate, and he looked bad without his medication then. Back then he was testifying to persuade the powers that be to dedicated more time and effort towards stem cell research. However, with this most recent ad, Mr. Fox appeared in an ad for Democratic Senate candidate, Ben Cardin. In this ad, Mr. Fox attempts to convince YOU the voter, that by voting for Ben, stem cell research will improve. While that may be true, you and I both know, that when watching a shifty, off-meds Michael J. Fox(Alex P. Keaton to you older people), your heart strings will be plucked and strummed like Jimi Hendrix was playing them. Maybe Fox didn't know what these spots would be used for when he recorded them, and maybe I'm underestimating how down and dirty political ads can be; or maybe this is Ben Cardin's response to Mike Tyson saying he would support Michael Steele(Cardin's Republican opponent). Whatever it is, I don't like it, and I think its manipulative. I also vow never to agree with Rush again.

I need to get some ass very soon, otherwise these blogs will turn into a written version of the McLaughlin Group Home Report.. Byye Bye!

If there was any doubt as to weather(look, a play on words) fall is here, it was definitely removed this morning. The Hawk(aka the wind for those vernacularly-challenged folk) jumped on my entire back, and stayed with me until I walked into my building. And once again, I am ill-prepared for this weather. I don't have a scarf, gloves or a winter coat. I'm sure if I search hard enough, I can find my scarf and gloves in my apt, but I know I don't have a winter coat. Last year's winter coat had seen 5 winters, and so I got rid of it back in March, thinking that sometime between then, and the NEXT cold month, I would make that purchase. But of course, me being the MENSA candidate that I am, I kept thinking that my old jacket was just in the back of my closet, and not the garbage. So now I have to buy a coat during a time period, when they are sure to jack the prices up. There are times when I swear I need a personal assistant man. There have been times when I've had women I was interested in double as personal assistants, but surprise, surprise, they never stick around. I do have someone who I know will be around no matter what, and perhaps I should ask her. It's not that I'm not capable of taking care of myself, it's just that I am not always on top of all facets of my life the way I need to be. I'm sure I'm not the only one who goes through that.

I watched the New York Giants spank the Dallas Cowboys last night during Monday Night Football, and the aside from the game the announcers focused on two main people: Terrell Owens' and his bitch ass(more vernacular), and Tiki Barber. I know Tiki won't read this here blog, but I want to congratulate him for being the anti-athlete. He announced last week that he is going to retire from football, in the prime of his career to pursue a career in journalism. Now when you first read that, you might think, what else is new..ex-athletes have basically littered the sports television and radio landscape, sometimes with little to no success. But Tiki already has a non-sports related journalism role on a show entitled Fox and Friends, and he also hosts his own show on Sirius radio, where he's interviewed John McCain and Bin Laden's mistress of all people. So this man is a rarity in sports: He's a top athlete, but sports is merely one stop in his journey, it isn't the only thing he has going. I'm not saying anything is wrong with athletes who milk their sport until they are carried off the field, then sit in the booth and point out the obvious because no one has the guts to tell them they suck. But I appreciate an athlete who bucks the trend..particularly a black athlete. So congrats Tiki.

Last week, a friend of mine told me that she thought Jay-Z was a sellout for doing Budweiser commercials. She said that it was much more admirable, when he was doing commercials for HP, because that was atypical of what rappers generally do, and he was basically a role model as a result. To her, the Bud commercials represented him taking a step back. I disagreed with her at the time, because not everyone really has to be a role model. There are some public figures who's job it is to make lots of money, and then flaunt it in every way imaginable. But last night during the football game, I noticed that in a 2 minute span they aired that Jay-Z Bud commercial, and then an HP commercial that featured Shaun White, who is a professional snowboarder/skateboarder. So just that quick, Jay-Z's atypical commercial has been bumped for the more conventional beer spot, and a lesser known figure now occupies the spot he could have had. This may sound like gibberish and nitpicking, but I still think that influential people should really give some thought about how they are perceived in the endorsment world, especially a rapper. This is one of my few soapbox moments. I"m not really good at them.

And now to make up for mini-criticism, here's one of my favorite Jay-Z songs: Hovi Baby .
And as an added bonus, here's the song he sampled in Hovi Baby: Diggin On You by TLC.

I had a pretty uneventful weekend, and from a distance one might very well think that I was depressed or something, but that wasn't at all the case. I just felt like laying low. Part of it was I just didn't have money to spend, part of it was the fact that there were just so many sporting events on TV, and part of it was I got my Scrubs DVD via Netflix, and I was looking forward to watching them. I highly recommend that everyone take at least one weekend to just be still, and reflect, while watching sports and DVDs. I had some very interesting phone conversations, I thought of a few ideas for my book, and I ate some damn good food, without doing much of a workout (I'm paying for that this morning). At this rate, the excitement level in my blog, is going to keep getting lower and lower. I prefer it this way though..at least for now.

Yesterday, prior to my all day football watching extravaganza, I was watching, "The Fly" for the first time, despite the fact that it came out 20 years ago. Watching movies from the mid 80s can be a humorous experience sometimes. The outfits, the cars, the outdated graphics, and the corny dialogue are sometimes difficult to navigate through. But through all of that, one thing did leave an impression, and that's the love the main female character had for the main male character, despite the fact that he was horribly disfigured and turning into a giant insect. That woman truly embodied the phrase stand by your man, and it got me to thinking. If I was seriously dating a woman, and I really loved her, and then she became ill or disfigured(i'm going to assume she wouldn't turn into a fly), how would I react? The knee-jerk reaction is to say I'd stay with her no matter what, but how I can't say that with any degree of certainty. Honestly, I may get tired of taking care of someone; or maybe them being in that state, would expose how shallow my feelings for them really are; or maybe, I'd shed my initial immature feelings, and step up. I have no clue, but it is definitely something to think about.

Two more Monday morning observations: 1) I have no idea why there is a need to sell roses on the street at 7am, and frankly I'd like to see the guy or girl who buys roses that early. This gentleman is out on the street every day at 7am selling roses, and I am quite sure he doesn't' make any money until around 4 or 5pm when people get off work. 2) There is a homeless man outside of my building, who has gotten so lazy, that he no longer makes eye contact with potential givers. He just walks down the street with his cup out. On Friday, he was eating a Subway sandwich that someone(maybe it was Jared) had given to him, and he held the "money cup" out with his free hand, without even looking up. This was a clear violation of the homeless/homeless giver relationship, and I'm not even being funny here. This does sound a tad mean though.

Poor Donovan McNabb.

I believe in the power of positive thinking, and I also believe that you can definitely speak good or bad things into existence if you really put your mind to it. So, I realize that once I say what I'm getting ready to say, I could be wishing bad things to happen to me, but I"ll take my chances. I just have the feeling that today will not be a good day for numerous reasons. I'm hoping that by addressing these things early in my day, that I'll be able to somehow salvage a great day.
First and foremost, when I ran on the track this morning, I was the ONLY one there. It was 5:30 am, it was cool and it was raining, so I guess that scared all the runners as well as the senior citizen power walk cult away. But since the court is well-lit, I don't really stress it, so I begin my run. During my second lap, I notice a shoe in the lane that I'm running in. Now I am quite sure that I did NOT see that shoe in my lane during the first lap, so instantly I start looking around. I think maybe some kids are playing a joke on me, but then I said, what kid would be up at 5:30 in the morning, just to terrorize someone on the track? Not bloody likely(read that phrase in an English accent). So then I start looking behind me for the Burger King mascot, because this seems like something he would do. Needless to say, I couldn't figure out where the damn shoe came from, and I just ran my last two laps at warp speed and got the hell out.

The second reason I think a bad day forthcometh, is that I forgot my lunch. A lot of love and time goes into my lunch when I make it, and I just left that shit in the fridge, along with my oatmeal. I pride myself on the money I save bringing breakfast and lunch everyday, while my co-workers spend $20 daily on food that will eventually have them looking like Rosie O'Donnell, and that is simply unacceptable. But now I can either act like I'm fasting, or I'll have to join them. And the last reason this day sucks already, is that I got rained on. I can't find my umbrella, so I was wet, my shirt is wrinkled, and I just felt like hot garbage on a stick. So there you have it.

While I'm writing this, it occurs to me that this particular blog entry is incredibly boring, but hey such is my life thus far this morning.

One more thing, this morning one of my co-workers is showing a WHOLE lot of cleavage. I mean we're talking Aretha Franklin levels here, although this woman here at my job isn't nearly that big. She came in here this morning to request something from me, and I tried to keep my eyes on her eyes. I mean I tried very hard, but they kept veering off to her chest. She played along with me though, and she acted she didn't see me looking 150 times. But I wonder..1)why would you have all that out at work 2)when you KNOW that you have cleavage out all over the place, do you get offended when men look more than once? or is it just staring? It baffles me man..if its out I'm looking, and I could care less if you get mad. There is no male equivalent. Guys don't walk around with half of their genitalia out..at least straight ones don't. And if we did women would look..then again guys probably wouldn't mind, but that's not the point here. I could see if today was some type of formal event, but its not. Its casual Friday, so why all the breast?

In honor of the lonely track run this morning, I shall conclude today's unfocused blog entry with a song by Don Henley entitled, The Boys of Summer.

During my run this morning(I hadn't run since LAST Thursday morning by the way), John Coltrane's, My Favorite Things was in my head the entire time. That song always hold special significance to me, because that was the FIRST jazz song my father exposed me too. That was also the first jazz song I learned how to play on the trumpet. I can remember from the ages of 9 to about 16, my father would never miss out on an opportunity to take my brother and I to a jazz concert. He'd tell us to watch how the drummer kept everyone on time, or to watch how the pianist, and the bassist would watch each other for cues and chord changes. He also taught us to clap after the solos of each band member. My brother and I would always been the only kids in the room, and my family would always be one of the few black families in the venue. For some reason, white people seemed(and still do to this day) to appreciate jazz musicians more, despite the fact that so many of these musicians are black. Some of my black brothers and sisters prefer to listen to that bullshit that is flooding the radio..but I digress. My point is that I'm always appreciative that my father actually took the time to introduce me to jazz, and hopefully I can keep that tradition alive. And just for clarification, when I say jazz, I mean artists like Branford Marsalis, Miles Davis, Wayne Shorter and Roy Hargrove. NOT, that smooth jazz bullshit that artists like Boney James, Najee and Kenny G play. I understand they have to make a living like everyone else, but that music is hot garbage. That's for 40 and over men who are trying to woo women in their bedroom.

I saw this story yesterday, about a Massachusetts school placing a ban on kids playing tag, and I just kind of shook my head. As a journalist said yesterday, kids are fat enough as it is, so any little thing that could possibly curtail their physical activity level is not a good move. All that does is place more stress on teachers, because their kids will be high strung and restless. The rationale for this was that tag is dangerous, because kids can get hurt and the school will be liable. Considering the number of fatal incidents that have occurred at schools over the past 10 years or so, a little tag-related injury seems small. But then I thought a bit deeper(as i'm prone to do every now and then), I thought about how pointless tag was in the first place. Tag is one of those games, where there is no winner at all. You can just keep going and going, and the only thing that stops tag from continuing is the end of recess, or fatigue. And I thought that this is a good analogy for the war(s) this country finds itself in. There's no measure of victory at all, we just keep running around, except in this case, we can't find anyone to tag, so we just stay "it". We get tired, we suffer casualties, we reload, but ultimately victory is nowhere to be found. That seemed so much more lucid in my head, than it did in writing, but I'm sticking with it now.

Thank you for those of you who sent recipes. I need more though. And now, in honor of my mini jazz tribute in the above paragraph, here is Giant Steps by John Coltrane. The beauty of this song, is the fact that Coltrane changes chords on the fly at least 5 or 6 times, and if you ever played music, you know that is difficult to do..add in the fact he's playing at lightning speed, it makes it that much more impressive.

A friend of mine told me last night, that she doesn't like having discussions related to spirituality and God with me, because I am extremely cynical towards both, and that hurt me a bit. I DO have a certain degree of cynicism towards people's interpretations of the Bible and spirituality, but I'm trying to do a better job of keeping that under wraps. I hear people tell me all the time (my mother leads the charge) that I NEED to be in church, and until I set foot in there, I won't receive all the glory that the good Lord wants and expects me to receive. But I don't like church at all. I don't like getting up, I don't like being around all the people, and depending on how much money is in my wallet, I'm always tempted to "borrow" money from the offering plate. I do attend church occasionally when my mother asks, or when the guilt just overtakes me, but I've never gone consistently. So I think my cynicism lies with church itself..As I get older I wonder if God understands my shortcomings, and still gives me a pass because I do honor him thru fasts, prayers, and occasional bible study. Or I wonder if he's going to tap me on the shoulder and be like, "Rashad, my man, I'm going to need you to find a church and soon". One thing I DO know is that one's relationship with church, God and spirituality is a life-long struggle..and to those people who are further along than I am, be patient or kiss my ass, I'll get there eventually.

I let a long time friend of mine down yesterday, and I feel bad as a result. When you say you're going to do something, and you don't do it, there's always some degree of disappointment. But when you let down someone you've know for a long time(a parent, a friend, my son) the disappointment is magnified. I will make it right very soon, but until then it's just a bit uncomfortable. This is one of those situations I vow never to be in again.

So last night, I watched the VH-1 Hip Honors show, and I really wish I hadn't. I understand the need for hip hop to honored outside the standard award shows like the Grammys, but shows like the one I saw last night, always leave me disappointed. The people who perform never do the songs you really want to hear; artists choose to do a medley of their songs, instead of picking one really good song and performing it well, and I really could go on and on. But instead of being negative, I'll say that I enjoy seeing my favorite rapper of all time: Rakim. Sure he looked a little older, and his breath control wasn't quite as good as it used to be, but it was still good to see him on stage being honored. Rappers don't tend to age well musically, it seems like he has. The rest of the show was just straight garbage.

I need some new recipe ideas man, I'm tired of eating the same thing over and over. Someone send me some please.

Imagine having the worst work day of your life on a Monday. You go to work and your computer won't start, then once it does start, you have countless emails that require you to both respond and react; everyone comes in your office to ask how your weekend was, and you have no idea how to explain that you basically sat on your ass; you lose 3 or 4 crucial documents, your boss yells at you as a result, you drop your lunch on a woman's cleavage, and so now her blouse is see thru. And to top it all off, when you are called upon to explain your projects in a meeting, you draw a blank and basically choke. Now after enduring that big bag of wrong, imagine having to go in front of the national media, and explain what the hell happened. That's what my main man Dennis Green, had to endure last night after his Arizona Cardinals blew a 20-0 lead last night, and lost to the Chicago Bears in Monday Night Football, 24-23.

It's not like Dennis could have skipped the press conference last night, because the NFL mandates that all coaches speak to the media after the game, or they will get fined. But I know it must be hard to explain to a bunch of unsympathetic media, who may or may not have even played the game of football, why you choked. And on top of that, often times you have to censor your language, which makes like even more difficult. It almost seems unfair, but the rule was put in place to help the sports writers who would have skimpy articles without quotes from players and coaches, and as an aspiring writer, I can certainly understand that. But as a person with a bad temper, I can also understand wanting to hit each and every one of the sportswriters with a Louisville Slugger. One of my favorite sports conferences ever, was given by NBA player, Rasheed Wallace. He had just been fined for skipping a press conference, so after his next game, he sat down and answered every question by saying, "It was a great game, both teams played hard my man". For 15 straight minutes, he answered every question like that, and then got up and said "Peace!". The humor of this cannot be captured via a blog, and frankly I don't know why I even tried. I'm sure youtube or something has a link or something.

Every morning while I'm trying to type my blog, there is this woman who interrupts me like clockwork. She basically fulfills the black woman at a government job stereotype, and I hate to use that expression, but dammit the shoe fits. She's loud, she bitches about what someone isn't doing for her, she's constantly saying that she's going to leave and get another job, yet when her supervisors come around, she gets quiet and starts to dance. And then I have to hear about her home life, her Washington Redskins(when she clearly doesn't know jack about sports), and it is just annoying. I say this because as I type this, she is talking to me, and I keep looking up periodically to say "really?", "word?", and my favorite, "I told you that bitch crazy". Ok I stole that last one from Chris Rock, but you get the point.

I have nothing but good news to report, after spending some time with Carlton this weekend. When I first saw him, he tried to pull his usual "I see Daddy, but I don't really see him" routine, and then he walked up to me and hugged me. When he was younger, he would run up to me, but he's developed some of that reserved behavior that his father has. So now he just strolled up to me, but he still hugged me tight. I met the family that he is currently staying with, and that seem like nice people..too bad I'm taking Carlton away from them shortly..Anyway, we left from there and went to the Hampton/Norfolk State game. Carlton and I were stuck in traffic for about 45 minutes, which allowed us to have a very interesting conversation. He grilled me about living in DC, my job, my family, and I returned the favor by asking him about Arizona, his current situation, school, etc. And then he shocked me with his knowledge of college football. He was talking to me about #1 ranked Ohio State, who should be ranked #2, his favorite players and everything. I don't know why I"m shocked that a son of mine would talk sports, but it was the depth of his knowledge that shocked me. It was like talking to a child prodigy. I can't explain how nice it is to have an actual conversation with my son now that he's 9. I had to endure those frustrating years, when he wasn't quite old enough to sustain a conversation, and I had to try to figure out what he was thinking, like he was Lassie or something. Those days are gone.

Once we arrived at the game, young Carlton was suffering from sensory overload. This was his FIRST football game, let alone, first black college football game. People were cursing, talking trash to one another, the men had on obscene amount of cologne, the women had on very little obscene clothing, and everyone was just loud. I saw lots of people I went to school with, and despite my attempts to act like I didn't see them, they found me, and bored me with small talk and b.s conversation. Normally, I would humor them, but I was spending time with my son, and I wasn't up to it. Carlton took pictures, he told me what plays Hampton should run, and it was just an overall good time. Every father should have the opportunity to take their son to the game, because it is truly a bonding experience. At one point, of the cheerleaders was bent over, and my son said Daddy, you can see her underwear. I looked over, and said why yes...yes you can Carlton, and then we both looked at the nice ass in the underwear for a minute. I hope this means he doesn't have the gay...not that there's anything wrong with that. Carlton also got the chance to meet Senator George Allen, who was at the game trying to trick all the Negroes at the HBCU campus into voting for him in the upcoming election. Some people prefer black churches, Senator Allen stepped up his game and went to a black college football game. Anyway, he shook Carlton's hand, then shook mine. It was my duty to explain who he was to Carlton, without the personal commentary, which was very difficult.

Okay,I'm not going to recap the entire visit, but the point is, we had lots of fun, and I told him that I'd be back next weekend. And I can't lie, I definitely have this glow about me today, that will hopefully last for a long time. When I get the pictures developed, I"ll link them on here. Oh, and Carlton did notice my beard, which made me smile.

And for the latest installment of "I'm getting old". When I returned to Hampton's campus, I was amazed at how young some of the students looked. But I was REALLY thrown off by all the cell phones. Now I know cell phones are a staple of society now, but just 14 years ago, when I first stepped on campus, NOBODY had a cell phone at all. So after football games, we couldn't call around to see what was going on, we had to physically walk around campus to stumble upon parties. Come to think of it, back in '92, we barely even had computer, and there definitely no laptops. I know I shouldn't act like I'm 50 or something, but that really did make me feel like a senior citizen.

Anyway, in honor of 1992, my freshman year of college, here is Brian McKnight

There are few things in life more frustrating than getting paid, only to watch your money be snatched away by important financial obligations that have accumulated since your last pay day. On days like this, you realize that you have a few options: 1)you can vow to be a bit smarter and get help 2)you can devise a plan to sell an impressive array of drugs 3)get a part-time job 4)get a higher paying job. Given my current situation, option #1 is the best way to go, but I am about to organize a task force to see if we can get option #2 on and cracking. I'm actually making my situation out to be a lot worse than it really is, but I like to play those games with myself as motivation to be more financially responsible.

I saw the movie Boys of Baraka last night, and I was completely unimpressed. The documentary was way too short, and I didn't feel like it really told a good story at all. Of course much of my frustration surrounding this film, probably stemmed from my personal feelings regarding the kids lack of educational development. These kids were getting little support at home, and even less support from the Baltimore School systems, so there was little to no motivation to succeed. From my own brief teaching experience, I should have known this was still a problem, but this documentary just brought all those feelings back. And, in what I found to be an insulting move, the directors of this documentary, felt the need to have captions at the bottom of the screen, despite the fact that these young black boys were speaking English. It gets no more insulting than that..to me at least. One of the reasons my favorite documentary to this day is Hoop Dreams, is that they painted a complete picture. You were able to see both good and bad qualities of the two main characters, and the story was long enough for you to see a complete picture. Boys of Baraka felt thrown together, and I definitely think more could have been done. Whoever heard of 90 minute documentary anyway?

I finally get to see my son tomorrow, but I know better than to hype it up again. I'll be damned if I look like a fool again. The tentative plan is for us to attend the Hampton University/Norfolk State football game, and he actually sounded excited about it. That's all I'll say about that for now. Hopefully I'll have good times to report on Monday.

Oh, and its about 40 degrees out right now, and the weather is making feel like I need some. In order, I would like: 1)Some caramel apple cider from Starbucks 2)15 straight minutes of oral sex from Muff(an inside joke) 3)a deep massage from Nia Long and Scarlett Johansson, and 4)a striptease from Mya. I hate to talk about these types of things right after I mention visiting my son, but such is life my friends.